Chapter 25

Chapter 25

" L ou!"

I'm at her side in no time and hold my stiff, frozen fingers under her nose. As her warm breath fills my palm, I collapse over her.

She's alive. Thank God she's alive!

As if in a trance, I put my hand on her forehead. Her skin is so icy, it scares me.

I recall what I know about hypothermia. I want to do a thousand things at the same time: start a fire, make tea, strip Lou of her wet clothes, and put her in the sleeping bag.

I carry her carefully to the edge of the forest, set her down, and spread the contents of the backpack on the ground until I find the blanket. I cover her with it. She is still unconscious from the cold. I have to think about how she touched me. "Hold on, Lou," I whisper, caressing her pale cheeks. "Just hold on and we'll see what we can do to make things better for you."

While Grey snuggles up to Lou, I collect birch and deadwood in the nearby forest since both burn when damp. Still, it takes forever to get a decent fire going.

Then I set up the tarp and spread out the sleeping bag underneath.

This time when I lift Lou and lay her on the open sleeping bag, a whimper escapes her mouth.

"Hey, it's okay, Lou." I don't know if I should be happy she's waking up now. I can't possibly put her in the sleeping bag in her wet clothes, besides, she needs warmth from the outside, that's the first rule of hypothermia. And since she's incapable of drinking hot tea, the skin-to-skin-contact method will work best.

With a sigh, I kneel beside her and rip the seams of the sweater with one jerk, too impatient to take it off her.

She moans and tosses her head from side to side without opening her eyes.

"Nothing is going to happen," I murmur dully, knowing what she's thinking.

As if she understood me, she keeps her head still. I climb over her legs, quickly unlace her shoes, and pull them off her feet along with her socks.

Her right ankle is badly swollen and dark blue. I wrap my hand around her toes, feeling like I'm reaching into a freezer. "Oh, goddamn, what the fuck!" Cursing under my breath, I pull off her wet jeans and panties. Rather randomly, my gaze darts over her naked body, but I'm far too worried to think of anything else. I take my clothes off, too, keeping only my boxer shorts on—the only piece of clothing still dry. Then, I crawl into the sleeping bag next to Lou and zip it all the way up.

It immediately gets warmer and I realize how cold I have been all this time. I carefully inch toward Lou and roll her onto her side to pull her close to me, so close I can feel her freezing back against my stomach.

With a tormented gasp, she tries to crawl away from me, but I won't let her. Gently, but firmly, I bring her back.

"I know you don't like this, but it has to be done." Her body is still icy. Her bare bottom presses against my abdomen through my embrace and I smell her wet hair. It smells of rain with a hint of lemon. Goose bumps trickle down my spine, but I don't know if it's caused by Lou's freezing body temperature or her proximity.

For a moment, she lies still as if she has surrendered to her fate. It must be terrible for her: completely naked and so close to me that not even a piece of paper would fit between us.

I beg my body not to have thoughts of its own. Tense, I listen to her breathing, which becomes more and more hectic before she tries to slide away from me a second time.

"Relax." I put one leg over her, which is just enough to immobilize her. Moreover, I don't feel her bottom as intensely any longer.

Good! Better! Definitely better!

In the crowded sleeping bag, I reach for her arms and cross them over her chest so she doesn't feel so vulnerable. "Just relax. You are hypothermic. Another hour and you wouldn't have made it."

Lou takes a few deep breaths as if trying to calm herself. I don't know how much she even understands. I'm about to say something else when I hear a faint slippery sound.

Of course! Grey! How could I have forgotten him. Previously, he was warming himself by the fire, but now he seems to feel left out and happily licks Lou's face. I scold him briefly and then let him crawl into our sleeping bag. He immediately snuggles up to Lou's side and whines. It sounds a bit reproachful, like he's asking her why she left him, and Lou sobs. The sound pierces my core and awakens a strange longing in me.

I pull my arms around her like ropes, feeling her back against my stomach. The relief of having found her suddenly washes over me like a monumental wave.

"Everything will be fine, Lou," I say quietly, only now realizing how exhausted I am. Every muscle is on fire and my skull is pounding in time with my pulse. "All is well. I've found you. You're okay." My throat is so tight again I can barely speak. As if a million tears were blocking it. "I won't hurt you. I won't touch you. I merely want to keep you warm, that's all."

I am so unspeakably glad that nothing happened to her. So incredibly glad my prayers were answered for once. I want to scream out loud to get rid of all the tension, but I stay still and press my cheek against Lou's hair. I feel her muscles relaxing and her body softening against mine. In this tiny, tiny slice of my life, everything is perfect for the first time. It's not only because I'm holding Lou in my arms, so intimately, gently, and close, but because today feels like I've done something right for the first time.

I lie there for a long time, my body a shell around hers, and listen to the night. The fire crackles next to us and the tarp flaps in the wind. In the far distance, barely audible, a few coyotes bark in the deep forest. I think of nothing but this moment. Maybe this is happiness. At least that's how I imagine it. In this moment, there is no room for doubt, Jordan Price, or Thorson Ave, this moment is just the way it is and it's perfect.

Lost in thought, I breathe into Lou's hair believing she's asleep, when she stirs in my arms.

"Bren…" Her hoarse whisper vibrates against my chest. "Thank you. Thank you for saving me…"

At first, I can't reply at all. I'm afraid that the bittersweet pain, this intense longing for her, will tear me apart. I take a few deep breaths.

"It was nothing, Lou," I whisper back, pulling her even closer to me. Suddenly, I have this insane feeling that I am connected to her by something as large as fate. It's like I'll always find her again if she's lost to me. As if we both belong together and as if we've even known each other long before. Like Lou was mine before I found her and I have belonged to her for as long as I can remember. Even back on Thorson Ave.

If I hadn't thought of the word girls' hearts on that icy winter day by the lake, I might have found Lou at a different time. Or she me. Just as two parts of a whole always come together, as if following an unwritten law. Perhaps we are also like two sides of a coin, fundamentally different, yet one. Two expressions of one thing, like laughter and crying, or light and dark.

Or maybe I'm merely too tired and too happy to see things as they are.

Despite being exhausted, I don't allow myself to sleep so I can monitor Lou's condition. Eventually, she grows restless, wriggling and shaking in my arms.

"Bren…cold…" she murmurs, half asleep. Her teeth chatter. "C-cold."

I hold her tighter and soothingly stroke her arms that are crossed in front of her chest.

"It's okay, Lou. The tremor is a good sign. Your body is reacting to the cold again, waking up. It'll be over soon."

She nestles into my embrace like she trusts my every word. Again, I feel so strange, as if this is all a sweet, yet at the same time, almost frightening dream.

When I'm certain she's sound asleep, I crawl out of the sleeping bag. It is as bitterly cold as at the beginning of winter. I quickly put on my change of clothes and slip into my dried jacket, then I carefully put Lou in a thick sweater.

I find a large rock, place it on the flames, and use its surface as a stovetop to boil water for tea and oatmeal. Nothing greasy, otherwise her body will lose heat again through digestion.

I fill the thermos that was still in the backpack with half the boiling water and place a bag of mint tea in it. The other half, I pour over the oatmeal mixture.

I sit by the fire for a while, stirring the oatmeal and watching Lou sleep. This physical closeness between us has wrapped me in a cloak that allows me to see the world with different eyes. It seems safer to me now and bigger at the same time. I can breathe more freely as the steel ring around my chest is gone. Maybe it was that feeling I was waiting for when I first saw the ocean back in Los Angeles.

Lost in thought, I add a few birch branches when I hear Lou's voice.

"Bren…"

"Lou!" I look over at her in astonishment and only see her head and the shock of blonde hair. "How do you feel?"

"Frozen," she murmurs dully.

I chuckle because I'm so relieved that she's already joking. "Do you feel any pain?"

It's quiet for a while and I almost think she's gone back to sleep.

"My ankle," she says weakly at some point.

"I saw it. It's swollen and blue. I'll wrap it later." I carefully pull the spoon out of the mush and blow on it a few times.

Lou turns her head so I can see her face. "How did you find me?"

I lower the spoon and smile because her appreciative tone warms my stomach as if I'd swallowed the oatmeal myself. I push my hair back in embarrassment. "Grey found you."

Lou's eyes close. "But…the cliff…"

I stir the oatmeal without tasting it. "Grey found where you went down. Or rather, fell?"

She nods.

"You must have had a whole company of guardian angels. I rappelled with Grey. He didn't like it all that much. He even peed all over my pants."

She smiles and I can only think of how special she is to me. "Grey lost track of you along the river, so I figured you were on the other side," I explain, sitting next to her with the pot.

In the glow of the fire, her cheeks are rosy as if having color, but the light can be deceiving. I nod to the pot in my hands with my chin. "I made some oatmeal. It's not a culinary masterpiece, but it will do the job."

"I can't eat."

"You need to."

Lou wants to burrow herself in the sleeping bag, but I beat her to it. I gently pull her up and tuck the woolen blanket behind her back so her upper body is a little elevated. Then I put the spoon to her lips, amazed at how willingly she lets herself be fed.

After taking a few more sips of tea, she curls up into a ball and snuggles deeper into the sleeping bag. I scrape the last of the leftovers out of the pot and eat while watching her.

Suddenly, I'm afraid this closeness between us might only last until the early morning. Maybe then we'll wake up and everything will be as it was before. It may not be until tomorrow that Lou realizes that although I saved her life, her escape was unsuccessful. She'll probably distance herself again and see me for who I truly am.

A kidnapper, a bad person.

Good people do good things. Tonight, I got something right for the first time, but that might not mean anything. Because if I hadn't kidnapped Lou, she would never have been in this danger.

Lost in thought, I go to the river and rinse out the pot before putting away the things I hurriedly dumped out.

"Bren…"

Her voice brings me back to the moment that just seemed so perfect to me.

"What about the drops…was it…very bad?"

I pause mid-move. "I'm fine." My head is still spinning and I know I'm a lot more exhausted than I'm willing to admit, but she doesn't need to know that.

"You sound tired…"

I suppress a smile. "Of course I'm tired. But not from the aftereffects of the drops… Anyway, get some sleep before I have to give you some." I put the thermos in my backpack and pause again. "Lou, I was kidding," I add quickly, looking over at her.

She snuggles back in and stifles a yawn. "I know."

I can't sleep that night. I sit by the fire, not knowing what to think. Which of Lou's feelings are real and which ones is she merely imagining?

I poke around in the embers, watching the eastern sky. The blackness gives way to a slate gray with narrow orange-red bands running through it.

Only now do I get an inkling of where we ended up. We're still on my land, though close to state territory. If we go further upstream, we'll come to Quiet Lake after a while. However, we'd first have to overcome the cliffs. I can't do that with Lou on my back and she won't be able to pull herself up on her own.

In my mind, I travel downriver. A few days' march from here, there is a gap within the rocks. It is narrow with a stream running through it. You can stretch your arms to each side and reach the rough stones with your fingertips. If you walk along it, after a while you come to a point where it goes up. From there you reach the logging road and from it the turnout. It would be a long detour, and with it almost being September, temperatures fall daily and every night can turn into a struggle to survive.

I look at Lou, frowning. I'll have to carry her, which won't make it any easier, and I'm not sure the milk will last that long for Grey. I could try feeding him jerky.

Tired, I wipe my face and wish I'd slept for at least an hour. Feeling stiff, I dismantle the tarp in the chill of the morning and carefully roll it up. Then, I cook Lou oatmeal and put it in a bowl. I also give some to Grey, who is lying next to me by the fire. At some point, it occurs to me that I, too, need to eat something even if I don't have an appetite. I take a few sips of water straight from the river and mechanically stuff myself with some hard, bone-dry crackers.

When the sky is bright blue, I go through my backpack for the fresh clothes for Lou.

She's lounging in the sleeping bag, and when I look her way, our eyes meet. She doesn't appear to hate me and a smile creeps across my lips. Maybe her feelings aren't imaginary?

As Grey greets her at length, I covertly watch her. Drowsy, she sits up and looks around.

Her eyes widen and I wonder what she's feeling when she sees the valley. Her gaze follows the light green river, the wide pebble banks to the silver grasses, the white forest hyacinths, and the shadow flowers. It continues further and further through the forest-lined valley and finally gets stuck on the snow-capped mountain giants on the horizon—mountains that seem so close but are a great many miles away.

Nature soothes me as if every thought were lost here.

"A special kind of peace, isn't it?" I say. "It seems like nothing and no one can hurt you here."

Lou just nods, though there is a curious sparkle in her eyes. Maybe she's like me when I first came to this place. Back when I didn't know how much the loneliness eats at the soul and that in the Yukon, not only would my past fade, but so would I.

"Where are we?"

Smiling, I pull a pair of jeans and one of her sweaters out of the backpack, but I don't answer.

"Bren, where are we?" She sounds impatient.

I shrug. "Somewhere in Canada." I toss her the clothes. "Put them on and then I'll take care of your foot…oh, yeah"—I rub my nose, a little embarrassed—"unfortunately, I don't have dry underpants."

I don't know why I don't want to tell her where we are. The Yukon feels like a secret I can't share with anyone—as if I'd be desecrating its magic.

While Lou changes clothes in the shelter of the sleeping bag, I extinguish the fire with dirt from the forest and put pebbles on top.

"How did you get all that stuff?" she asks, pulling her sweater over her head.

"When I woke up, you were gone," I say, unable to entirely avoid the accusatory undertone. "I knew you wouldn't survive out here on your own. What you were up to was madness!" I remember the oatmeal I set aside for her and hand the bowl to her. "You should eat that before we head back. It's still warm. I also have tea in the thermos."

She wolfs it down like she's starving. I can't make myself look away. If only I knew what she's thinking and how she's really doing.

I remember the necklace I found on the rock. That night, I stowed it in the bottom of the backpack, but I want to fix it before I give it back to her.

Lou glances over at me as if she caught me eyeing her. A shy look. I can't interpret it.

She blinks. "So, how did you end up finding me, at the cliff I mean?"

"It was obvious that you'd orient yourself along the stream. Enough drinking water and a guarantee you wouldn't walk in circles." I reach for the tarp and tie it to the backpack. "When you ran off at the gorge again, I went back to get Grey to help find you. I knew a storm was approaching."

"So, you quickly packed everything you needed to survive and set out to find…"

"Killer of the unprepared."

"What?" Lou stares at me.

"Killer of the unprepared. It's a term for death by hypothermia. In Canada, it catches a few tourists every year. Windy and wet climate with temperatures around forty degrees are the best conditions." I eye her somberly, feeling a touch of anger I don't want to feel. "What were you thinking? Running through the wilderness at night and even crossing a river… I thought you couldn't swim." With a bitter taste in my mouth, I shake my head.

"Well, I can't," Lou whispers. "But what choice did I have?"

Something in my stomach convulses. "None, I guess," I reply far too harshly and far too mockingly. "It seems I'm more terrible than death." Better not to get used to the feeling of closeness. Better not to let hope hurt me.

Without paying any more attention to her, I pack the sucked-empty breakfast bag. "I've already fed Grey. I'll wrap your ankle and then take you back."

A strange sound comes out of Lou's mouth, maybe not a real sound at all, but a shaky breath.

"Back? Back to where?"

My hand, reaching to close the backpack buckle, stops mid-air. I realize what I said. Lou's question hangs between us, leaving a thick silence.

"To the RV, of course, where else?" I say after a moment as if it were a matter of fact. I pull the leather strap through the loop and stare at the buckle.

"Of course," I hear Lou whisper next to me, hoarsely as if speaking against a flood of tears.

Crap! I can almost physically feel her desperation, cutting into my gut, tugging at my heart. I have to say something to her. Something to comfort her because it's not her damn fault she's sad, it's mine.

"Lou?" I whisper softly, looking at her. She sits hunched on the sleeping bag, rocking back and forth, tears rolling down her face.

My throat starts to burn. "You thought something would change because I drank that stuff, didn't you?" I ask hoarsely.

She nods and keeps looking at me, crying.

"I'm sorry." From far away, I hear my voice echo. Everything's kind of easy for you, isn't it?

"I wish I could let you go," I say honestly. "I wish I could show you what you mean to me."

"So do it!" she sobs through tears.

"I can't." I look past her to the golden willow tree on the other bank. Just the thought drains me and leaves me empty. I cannot do it. I will never be able to.

I notice she tries to lock eyes with me, but I keep staring past her. "M-maybe…maybe someday?" she asks haltingly.

"I took the drug because I was a danger to you," I reply softly. "I was in the middle of a blackout and anything is better than hurting you. At that moment, even losing you is better than hurting you or you falling." I force myself to look at her again, as to do otherwise would be cowardly and unfair. Only cowards look the other way.

Her shoulders tremble and she wraps her arms around herself, a lonely consolation. "Maybe someday? Bren," she repeats and there's an unbearable helplessness in her words. "Please tell me…maybe someday? Only someday."

She looks at me. I can't stand that look. She believes in something in me. She could make me a good person. A good person who does good things that he fears. She could make me who I would have been if my stepfather hadn't existed.

I smile sadly because I don't think I can ever overcome those shadows.

I silently wrap her ankle, but her words haunt me the entire time. It tears me up hearing her cry, knowing I could change it. I think of my answered prayers that night and my promise to make things better for her even though she probably didn't hear it. I think about how she spoke to me every time I had a flashback. She brought me back with words I can't even remember.

When I'm done, I look up at her. How to make it better for someone?

I gently place my hand on her wet cheek. I stroke her skin with my thumb, wiping away the tears still streaming down her face.

I always thought hope could break a person. But maybe that's not true. Maybe it's also hope that keeps us alive for so long even when all we see is darkness. Was I hopeful back on Thorson Ave? If yes, for how long? I can no longer recall. But maybe it's not important at all. This is about Lou and all she needs right now is a light.

I take a deep breath, look at her, holding her gaze. " Maybe can mean never—and someday ten years." She swallows and trembles. "So, okay…Lou." I wipe a few more tears from her face. "Maybe someday. Maybe someday. But don't ever ask me that again."